In 2001 or 2002, I found a video of another girl engaged in acts with him, filmed from his vantage point. It was filmed in the house of his, the house I was in when I found it. The girl appeared to be about my age, and she had my hair color. He didn’t appear but I heard his voice.
That is why I think there might be video of me out there somewhere.
There were other patterns, with me, back in the day. He interrupted movies we were watching at the oddest times to guide me to his bedroom. He always, always had either the “Sleepless in Seattle” soundtrack or Elton John’s “Love Songs” CD playing when we were together in his bedroom. Usually things went on just long enough for the entire CD to play. The decor of the room, in retrospect, was nonexistent, which would have made the setting unidentifiable. There was literally nothing on the walls, there was no headboard on the bed, there was literally nothing about that room that had any personality at all.
And I had no idea at the time, at age 20, that music could be used for grooming. It worked; for the rest of my life, I will think back to that time whenever I hear any one of those songs. I have spent the past 26 years doing my very own desensitization therapy of sorts, listening to those songs over and over as I am able to handle it, to be able to listen to any of those songs without throwing myself into a melancholic, longing funk.
And that’s all I have to say about that, today.
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